


just lean your head back

by averagefaces



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 13:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17101046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averagefaces/pseuds/averagefaces
Summary: junho had liked it, chansung's dirty mouth and the way his body moved, like almost getting caught was all the fuel he needed to go on.





	just lean your head back

**Author's Note:**

> published september 2013. revised march 2017. reposted december 2018. this is a work of fiction, no harm intended to any parties involved. please do not repost/copy or translate without permission. thank you for reading!

 

1:

chansung is one shameless, exhibitionist, little shit. "you're an exhibitionist little shit," junho says – gasps, more like.

they're pressed together on top of the couch, wooyoung and minjun's laughter coming from outside the practice studio. junho's cock is hard and leaking already, flushed red in chansung's fist. this is not how their practice should have gone – this is not how junho's _life_ should have gone – he certainly didn't plan to have chansung "cuddling for a little while" and then his pants shoved down his thighs, and he's pretty sure the moan he let out just now will reach the people across the door and –

junho's brain is one big mess of thoughts right now.

"you need to stay quiet," chansung murmurs into the hollow of junho's collarbones, where he's the most ticklish. he keeps the pace of his hand steady enough to drive junho out of his mind, the lack of lube making it hurt but in the good kind of way, the best possible (he very pointedly does not stop for long on this newfound realization), his fingertips teasing at junho's very soft spots.

junho bites down on his lip, his hips stuttering, and lets chansung roll on top of him so the angle changes, so his thumb rubs on the ridge at the tip of his cock _just_ right. junho would scream, would even laugh and call chansung a few names, but this is _good_ – the adrenaline of almost getting caught weaving in the air between them, the shared breathes when chansung surges up from licking at junho's neck to kiss him but not quite getting there yet. junho has a distant thought then, that chansung goes about kissing like he goes about everything else – calm and steady, like he's taking his time to explore but being earnest about it, slow and thorough, bordering on thoughtful and calculated but so passionate about it it makes junho's heart stutter off rhythm.

when chansung swipes the pad of his thumb over the very tip of junho's dick, he knows this is going to be over soon – like, _in the next ten seconds_ soon.

"if only they could hear you," chansung bites at his lips, his fingers tightening around junho, already too much and too hot and too tight, "if only they could see you, junho, fuck."

and, of course – of course, that's when the world decides to tip off his axis, taking junho with it as it goes, and it's exploding, exploding, falling, falling, falling. chansung holds him through it, mumbling low and filthy against his ear, kissing the jut of his jaw as junho comes apart under him, his eyes screwed shut and his fists tight on chansung's shoulders as minjun cackles at whatever wooyoung said while junho had his soul ripped off his body through his fucking cock.

no pun intended – there was no sucking to begin with, much to junho's chagrin.

2:

okay, so maybe chansung is not the only shameless, exhibitionist, little shit. junho is ninety-eight percent sure chansung rubbed it off on him (hah, get it) because junho didn't enjoy this whole _maybe we'll get caught, fuck, shit, that's hot, isn't it_ thing until chansung came up with it. oh, yes, because it's been happening a lot recently, junho never knows when he's going to be pounced on and dragged into bad lit closets or restrooms and just be thoroughly messed with. but it's all chansung's doing, really, junho has never started anything himself.

yes, that's exactly what happens and junho will swear it is until the day he dies. or the day he gets thrown into jail for public indecency, whatever happens first.

he's got the strong feeling the second one will happen soon, very soon, considering their state of nakedness at the moment. junho concentrates on finding his boxers by tact memory on the floor of the car because there's no way he's going to open his eyes now, he's too tired and spent and _literally_ fucked out.

you see, the thing is junho just wanted to get junk food at three am, and yeah, probably not the best idea he's had in a while, but then chansung had gone and be all sassy and adamant about the pros and cons of road-head, and then that had led to them to test chansung's theory ("it sharpens your reflexes! you have to literally multitask, junho, this is character building, now keep your eyes on the road,") and from that to making out desperately in the deserted parking lot of mcdonald's - to junho tasting himself in chansung's mouth, and maybe junho'd enjoyed it a bit too much, but chansung had made _these sounds_ and junho had gone from zero to sixty faster than his car ever could.

and junho drives a very fast car, in case anyone's wondering.

but junho still thinks about it as he gets dressed and chansung kisses him whenever they sort their clothes out and hand it to each other, the rush of arousal and adrenaline and _power_ he'd felt even as he'd been held down and fucked into oblivion, chansung murmuring, "quiet, be fucking quiet." junho _had_ liked it, chansung's dirty mouth and the way his body moved, like _almost getting caught_ was all the fuel he needed to go on, and junho relates to it, in more ways than one now, because junho had come in between them, sticky and hot and _long_ , when the rumble of another car had passed by them and junho'd distantly thought about how it'd look like standing from the outside: the windows fogged, the car shaking slightly with every thrust chansung aimed just _right_.

exciting is good, he decides when they drive back, chansung behind the wheel this time, exciting is what keeps the spark alive, and as junho sits back to watch the city slowly pass by the window, he realizes they haven't eaten anything at all and yet feels full and warm and like he's buzzing inside.

3:

they should've thought this one better. like, maybe sit down with a cup of coffee and draw charts and power point presentations. do some research,  even.

junho admits the more public the place, or the easier it'd be to caught while at it, makes the ordeal even hotter and dirtier. they get off on it, it's true, it's a sex thing by now, one of their kinks, even, but it's also spectacularly fun. like that time junho tried to eat him out while they were in the airport's restrooms and then a couple of teenagers had walked in and had gotten it on in the stall right next to theirs. chansung had to bury his face in junho's shoulder and shove his own fist into his mouth to keep from laughing too much and junho had nearly collapsed on top of the toilet because teenagers these days are _loud_.

and there had been that other time when they'd been making out in a changing room in osaka, enough tongue and nipping and biting to get junho heady and chansung handsy, and someone had walked in on them and their kissing had somehow become junho spieling about caries and how chansung needed to put extra care on his molars while chansung himself got a darker shade of red the deeper junho got into the subject of oral hygiene.

this, though, this has the potential to both become that kind of story that makes everyone laugh after a bottle of tequila, or getting their asses fired off to jupiter. junho really doesn't want to be fired. it is one thing to get off in the loos or fuck in a changing room, but getting blown behind a stack of piled-up boxes in one of the many sbs studios. people are literally walking past them behind these boxes, and if they weren't making a secluded corner against the wall, junho wouldn't have a solid place to lean back into, let his weight drop and be numb.

"we're gonna get caught," he mumbles when chansung lets go of his cock, his lips red and swollen and spit-slick, and gets back on his feet, crowding into junho's space.

"don't pretend you don't like it," chansung counters, and, like he thinks junho needs a reminder of how much he actually likes it, gives junho's cock a quick pull, thumb tracing the vein on the underside from root to tip.

junho's pants are pooled at his feet, chansung's half undone and shoved down, but junho can see it, the outline of his cock as it curves upwards through the fabric of his boxers, the tip poking out of the waistband, and it's fucking obscene the way his mouth waters and his own cock stirs, but he doesn't care, can't care about anything that isn't the soft yet urgent press of chansung's fingers over his hole.

chansung is more careful than junho gives him credit for, though, because as much as they're horny and desperate, chansung doesn't push, just traces the rim of junho's entrance with the pad of his middle finger, and even if the catch of dry skin on dry skin is just this side of painful, chansung just holds him there, grounded and tight against the wall and his body.

but junho needs more – always, all the time when it comes to chansung – needs more skin and more air and more of chansung's mouth all at once, so when chansung curves both hands over his ass to pull his hips closer, junho pushes against them and into chansung's mouth with his own, kisses him deep and rough and dirty and fumbles with chansung's underwear in his haste to get his hands on him. they're not going to last, not with so many people shouting and talking and just _being there right next to them_ , and apparently chansung catches onto it as well; he crowds in closer, both pressed from mouth to hip, and now knees when chansung shimmies his boxers and jeans down and slides a thigh in between junho's.

it's far from perfect – long gone are the days when dry humping was as satisfying as it could get – but chansung's mouth is talented and his tongue more so and the way their cocks are aligned should be awkward but it's not, it's skin on skin, warm and tight and slightly damp, and junho loves it, every second of it, loves chansung for being so fucking insane and yet so gentle it makes junho burn everywhere, like his skin is on fire.

they kiss and kiss and kiss, their hips working together, close, in sync like so many times before, and when he comes, junho's heart stops for about five seconds, tiny colorful lights spreading through the back of his eyes and chansung's voice warm against his ear, "i love you, junho, i love you," while the noises around them stay a constant buzz along their skin.

4:

junho is literally dead on his feet when he walks through the million airport lights. his bags are somewhere behind him and his phone is in his hand, chansung's text still open. _coming to get you, don't move, wait for me_ exactly what junho needs right at fuck am – who cares how late it is, really, it's dark and chilly and junho needs a bed and chansung. (that and a cuddle and probably an outstanding blowjob to help release some of the past few days' frustration.)

fans are waiting outside and as much as he's thankful for the support on his solo tour (fuck, thinking about it still makes his skin break with goose bumps) he'd really like to have a moment of peace and quiet.

when chansung finds him, junho is locked away in the parking lot, sitting on a bench with his two suitcases piled on the empty spot next to him. he's got a beanie on his head and his jumper is clutched tightly in his hand. they don't kiss, barely even pat each other's arms, because this is a kind of _public_ that they'd never dare to defy.

they climb onto the van and scoot towards the last bench, junho's bags piled up in the one before them. the driver is a hyung from the company, a quiet man in his thirties that barely nods at junho when he gets in and then starts the car without further ado.

he sags against chansung's arm, heavy and drowsy. "so tired," he mumbles, pressing his nose to the side of chansung's neck, breathing in deeply. he smells spicy and warm, sweat and the vague hint of aftershave. junho's thought about it over the years, how from all the changes they've gone through, all the different shit they've put chansung through, this is the only thing they won't change about him. junho is very content with the fact he gets to do this, nuzzle at the expanse of chansung's throat and just stay there.

"missed you," chansung whispers, and tangles his fingers in junho's hair at the back of his head, tugging just so to tilt his head up and fit their mouths together.

as far as their kisses go, this one's slow, quiet, private, the kind of kiss that isn't meant to lead into anything else, is just them remapping the insides of their mouths, the fit of their lips. junho could spend hours doing just this (and he probably has already), reminds him of their early days, when everything was new and intense and yet so tender, so lovely.

it's not just about the incredibly amazing sex, it never has been. junho's way deep into it, gone as much as chansung is or probably more, and the fact they're so caught up in this, in them, _this_ caught up in each other after so long makes junho light-headed and warm.

he sighs quietly into the kiss, angling his body towards chansung, letting him press closer on the bench, the lack of space of it all reminding junho of that first time in the couch where they barely had room to fit their legs without toppling over, the rumble of the van triggering sensory memories of leather under his back and his ass, chansung braced above him, eyes dark and intense.

chansung must sense it, the moment a shiver runs down junho's spine, must taste the desperation in junho's mouth after one too many nights spent away from each other. junho doesn't think of himself as clingy or dependent, but the undeniable truth is he's missed chansung a whole fucking lot and it must be showing, with how he's suddenly kissing deeper, hands tracing every bit of chansung available just to make sure he's here and real, solid.

they fumble with junho's fly and zipper, and chansung pulls away only to lick a stripe up his palm, and then he's shoving his hand down junho's briefs and wrapping warm fingers around his cock and yeah, yeah, that's exactly what junho wanted, chansung around him, against him, close to him.

he comes with chansung's name on his lips and chansung's mouth on his neck, the driver humming along to bon jovi on the radio, junho's body tight as a string.

5:

it's one thing be caught by a stranger, and another thing entirely to be caught by one of your band-mates.

truth is, junho should've locked the door. he hadn't, though, brain turned into jelly as chansung had turned him around, his face to the door, and had opened him up only with his tongue. junho hadn't been expecting that, not really, since what he'd heard was "hey, wanna watch a movie?" and nowhere in between the lines had he caught "screw the movie, i'm going to pin you to my bedroom door, right where anyone could listen, and put my tongue in you."

well, actually, chansung _had_ said that but junho hadn't believed him.

so here they lie, on a heap of limbs on the floor, naked and sweaty, and if junho can have his way, he's never going to move from this spot, he doesn't care if all his limbs end up numb. chansung's hips are still moving, his cock still buried balls deep in junho, and he's warm and damp wherever their skin touches, and even if he's got half a mind to get them going again, one can't fuck on the floor twice in a row; last time they tried it, junho got nasty carpet burns all over his lower back.

"the bed is _right there,_ " he mumbles into chansung's cheek, and chansung laughs, breathy and loud, warm puffs of air muffled against junho's neck.

"it's always been right there," is what chansung says, but he's nodding, propping himself up slowly on queasy limbs, pulling out slow and careful, his hand curving over junho's hip soothingly as he does.

junho unwinds his legs from around chansung's hips, softly stroking his sides, right where chansung is the most ticklish, and soon they start a tickle fight, a _naked_ tickle fight that has chansung laughing like a hyena and junho's cheeks cramping with how wide he's grinning.

and that's how nichkhun finds them, sweaty on top of each other, hips aligned because even if there's nothing sexual about tickles, there's still so much _skin_ it gets them both heady, and junho is half hard even without meaning to. nichkhun gapes at them for two seconds, his eyes wide and doe-like, and then he's screaming, _screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs_.

" _oh my god_ ," he's saying, " _oh god_ ," and wooyoung is somewhere in the house laughing his head off, while nichkhun, still standing at the door, by the way, is saying, "it's three fucking o'clock in the afternoon, why are you two fucking at such a pg time of the day, you are nuts, jesus christ, i've seen more of your junk than i ever needed to, i am moving out, holy shit, i am so moving out, screw the band, you two are hopeless, i give up."

chansung is shaking with laughter, his face buried in junho's chest, and nichkhun can shut up because they're pressed close enough to keep their junk hidden, and the only visible part of their bodies are junho's side and chansung's ass, and that's a beautiful ass to behold so nichkhun better consider himself lucky.

"hey," junho calls, and chansung is still laughing manically somewhere between junho's collarbones and right nipple, "either walk away or join us, okay, we're in the middle of something here."

nichkhun slams the door shut and yells from the hallway, "you shameless little shits!"

junho grins at the ceiling, chansung's face coming up from its spot on junho's chest. "that we are," he says, and he's smiling widely, lazy and fucked out.

"we are," junho agrees.

  


**_the end._ **


End file.
